Sweet Dreams Are Made of This
by Twilight Cabaret
Summary: A crime committed under questionable circumstances. A cruel father with uncertain motives. What lies in store for Sasha at Providence Hospital for the Criminally Insane?


_Flowers falling, petals swirling in the rain._

_Tears in my eyes, blurring my sight until all goes grey._

_My black clothes, those of my sister. _

_Here's a lullaby to close your eyes, mother._

_Goodbye, Goodbye._

_To be isn't at all, and what was, is never to be again._

"Wake up." Rough hands shook me awake and my eyes opened slowly, blearily, in the cold morning light. I opened my mouth to speak and found that it felt full of cotton, and, hoping that it wasn't really, I formed words around the unpleasant density and fuzziness.

"Where am I?" I looked up. A tall building, maybe five stories, loomed over me. I knew what this was. It looked like my nightmares. Had I finally died and gone to Hell? I half expected a bolt of lightning to shock out from behind the corners of the roof, which didn't have the requisite gargoyles, yet looked just spooky enough to make their point without them.

My father, ever loving, grabbed my arm roughly and lifted me out of the car one-handed. A big, tall man, he towered over my 5'2 stature.

"This is the end of the line, Sasha. Your mother's gone and I can't be expected to look after your bullshit anymore. Welcome home." He gripped my arm tightly and guided me forward. The sign above the door read "Providence Hospital for the Criminally Insane".

End of the line? Where had the line began? Was it when I was nine and running from the house in the dead of night to follow fairies that no one else could see? Was it the suicide attempts beginning at eleven, thirteen, and sixteen? The voices that no one but me could hear?

I had been a beautiful child, but a difficult one. I am the middle child, there being an older brother above me and a sister younger than me still living with our nefarious parent. My brother was never quite right, and when I was four proved himself entirely sadistic. My father and uncle caught him raping me during a family reunion. I still remember being carried downstairs to the car in my father's arms while my uncle beat my brother senseless. My brother was ten.

After that, things were never quite right. That's when Locust appeared. A six foot long tiger who walked by my side at all times, he grew more macabre as the years went on, but at first, all he wanted was to protect me. I believed fully that it was him who sent my brother away, when in fact it was the doctors, the same doctors who were so hesitant to label a child with my "affliction" as schizophrenic. It took them seven more years, and much more chaos, to finally come to a diagnosis. It shattered my father. He began drinking, and forgot who he once was; a powerful lawyer who loved his family. My mother became a stranger to him, and I a stranger to everyone as I pulled away into my own world. My father owned a nice house, and kept care of it well. He expected those who lived within his kingdom to act like the princesses he expected to have raised, and my differences grew to be too much. No matter that they were beyond even my control, much less his, they got overwhelming for him after the accident. After my last fight with my mother, though we were not the only ones in the room.

_I know more than you think._

"What was that?" My father asked, jerking my arm and drawing his face close to mine.

"Nothing." I dodged his glance, eye contact burned my retinas like a solar eclipse.

"Better be." he muttered, turning his attention back to the locked, steel door. He pounded on it with his fist and yelled for someone while I idly glanced at the big red button mounted on the wall next to it.

Finally, an answer.

"Ah, Mr. Fenton. We've been expecting you. Is this Sasha?" The creature in white gestured to me. I shouldn't even say white. Her dress was stained grey and brown, and tight fitting. I knew it was a female only by the breasts, because her face was covered with bandages. Atop her bandage covered head was a tiny nurse's cap. She teetered on heels six inches high, and carried a clipboard. I don't know how her voice wasn't muffled through all those bandages, but my father didn't seem at all bothered by her.

"Yes, hello. Yes, this is her." He pushed me forward and I stiffened. I wanted to be nowhere near that creature, especially now that I could smell her. She gave off the mixed odors of smoke and the rusty scent of old blood. I realized suddenly that the brown stains on her dress were probably just that. I knew my father was fucked up, but how could he leave me with this?

The nurse stepped back and allowed us to pass, and as she did, I could almost feel her glare on the back of my neck, hot and incriminating. Her eyes were covered by the bandages, but as bandages are only made of gauze, I assumed she could see through that. I really didn't think I looked all that threatening or evil, myself. As I said, 5'2, black curly hair in twin ponytails at the nape of my neck, pink pajama pants that ended at the knee and a matching pink top with short sleeves. My father hadn't let me change out of them before he drugged me with meds and stuffed me into the car. I looked back over my shoulder as the doors closed with a resounding clang of metal.

Welcome Home.


End file.
